


What Pride Has Wrought

by Goddessgirl



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Vallaslin Scene, ventfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 17:27:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15801225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goddessgirl/pseuds/Goddessgirl
Summary: Solas: Pride; to stand tall“I couldn’t believe the mistake my clan had made, the lies my keeper herself believed; the lies we all believed. I didn’t know how to feel about being...marred. So I-I…”“You let him remove it.”





	What Pride Has Wrought

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this immediately after the Vallaslin scene because I had so many emotions, which I promptly shoved on to my Inquisitor.
> 
> Please Enjoy!

Dorian watched as the sun dipped low past the mountain range, the splendid sunset almost making up for the dreaded cold that pervaded the stronghold. He was content to sit curled up in his chair by the fire with a good book, a good evening by all accounts. So he was reasonably surprised when he heard timid knocking at his door, he very rarely had visitors; especially this late at night. Dorian considered it may be The Iron Bull, come to shake up their routine by coming up to the mages room; but the knocking was far too restrained to be from the big brute.

  
But never say Dorian was unprepared, he walked to his vanity, making sure he was a perfect as he always was before opening his door with a flourish. But upon seeing his visitor his preening felt horribly selfish. The dear Inquisitor stood there, looking more small and fragile then he had ever seen her. Her head was ducked low and she wrapped her arms tightly around herself, her shoulders shaking with barely restrained sobs.

  
Without thinking Dorian replaced her arms with his, holding his dear friend close; rubbing her shoulder as she cried. He did not ask for an answer, not yet, she needed comfort before such troublesome topics could be broached. So he lead her to his chair, and turned to make her a cup of tea; knowing little on the art of comforting save soft warm things.

  
He could still hear her soft sad sounds, her hiccuping sobs and breathy sighs; and he hastened to make her the cup of tea. When he finally turned her head was still down low, her flaxen locks shielding her face from view. When Dorian handed her the cup he heard a bitter chuckle before she drank it down, ignoring how hot it was. Dorian still did not press for answers, merely sat on the chairs arm and wrapped his arm around her fragile shoulders.

  
A few more moments passed and the tea was done, the cup now on the ground, and dear Telana leaned heavily into his side. Her sorrow too much to bare, and he finally asked her what caused her such grief.

  
“Solas…”

  
“Ah. A lover’s quarrel then?” His tone was soft but the words still made her breath shudder, tears barely held at bay.

  
“He took me away, told me he wanted to tell me something. He told me that my markings, my vallaslin, were yet another mistake by my people.” Dorian didn’t miss the venom in her words when she spoke the elvish word. “Apparently they’re slave markings, no more significant then brandings and manacles.”

  
Saying it out loud seemed to wound her, she curled in on herself; one hand clutching her chest the other her face. Dorian was slightly worried she was going to hurt herself and gently grasped her shaking hand, rubbing a soothing pattern into it. When she spoke once more her voice wavered and cracked, the pain becoming too prominent; the wound too fresh.

  
“He told me he wished to free me from the tragedy that marred me, to remove my vallaslin.” Dorian inhaled sharply at that, he could sense the end of this story. “I couldn’t believe the mistake my clan had made, the lies my keeper herself believed; the lies we all believed. I didn’t know how to feel about being...marred. So I-I…”

  
“You let him remove it.” Telana sobbed at Dorian’s words and nodded, before slowly lifting her face. Her golden eyes were red and swollen, and her freckled cheeks were splotchy and wet from tears. And where once her vallaslin lay, was now empty. The delicate green branches now replaced with tears.

  
Before coming to the South Dorian had only ever met enslaved elves, and very few wore the mark of the Dalish. Once arrived he had still hardly seen Dalish elves in his travels, being as secretive as they were. So Telena was unique to him, and she had jumped at the chance to explain her peoples ways. It pained him now to remember how excited and proud she had been, especially when she reached the tale of the Blood Writing. Her tone had become hushed and revernet, and she was unable to stop her fingers from tracing the pattern on her cheeks. To see her now without it, was strange and painful.

  
He brought her closer for another hug, unable to soothe the pain of a tradition tarnished and lost. But her sobs only grew deeper and she clutched desperately at Dorians robes, before whispering.

“That’s not all.”

  
“No?”

  
“No. After he had taken it away, after he told me I was beautiful, he broke off our...involvement.” If Dorian hadn’t been set on comforting his friend he would have stomped his way through the castle and to the blasted elf’s rotunda, and make him suffer for hurting her. “I’ve just returned from talking to him, I just wanted to know why. And he told me...he told me we must now focus on things that matter. That I must sharpen my pain and turn it on Corypheus, that he had been selfish.”

  
She barely uttered the last word before she was dissolved once more in tears, holding tight to Dorian.

  
“I’m going to kill him.”

 

“No you mustn’t!” His muttered threat had pulled Telana out of his embrace, her expression panicked. “Don’t say a word of this to him! I cannot let him know I am so affected.”

  
“And why not? Why shouldn’t you be affected? He has took that which tied you to your clan! He basically said your relationship didn’t matter! These are worthy causes of affectation!”

  
“He’ll think me a child if he knows of this!” Her face was determined, even as tears still streamed. “He told me if we survive Corypheus, that we would talk. We might still have a chance Dorian! I just have to be patient.” Her end remarks were yelled slightly as Dorian stood up and began passing. He was stunned, baffled even, level-headed Telana was so stubborn she could not hear how nonsensical she sounded.

 

“Telana, maybe this is a chance to move on? I know it hurts now b-”

  
“Have you ever been in love Dorian?” Dorian’s thoughts unfairly brought up The Iron Bull, his weak heart pounding faster. But he banished such thoughts, whether or not they were true they were unworthy of the man. For Iron Bull was a man deserving of passion and love, Solas barely deserved to breath the same air as the fair inquisitor.

  
Dorian turned back to offer a retort but stopped short, sometimes he forgot how young their Inquisitor really was. Barely 24, younger then nearly all of her companions. Dorian remembered when he was 24, so desperate for a loving touch or a meaningful glance that he would give himself to nearly any man who asked. Telana had grown dependent on such touches and glances from Solas, and when he turned away she was left raw and torn asunder.

  
Telana must have sensed Dorian’s growing sympathies for her, and took his attention as a way to gain more.

  
“My clan is dead Dorian, my vallaslin gone. I am unmoored, and all too soon the Inquisition shall succeed and I will be without purpose. Solas may not be my purpose but he gives me strength; he has supported me in tough times. And I know he loves me too, if I’m just patient I’m sure we’ll be together once more.” Dorian shook his head and heaved a deep sigh, before pulling Telana up into a hug once more.

  
“You are hurting my friend, and it pains me to see. So while you wait, please allow me to comfort you. And do not worry, I will keep my thoughts hidden away from Solas.” The small smile was worth the sour words, he hated to enable her harmful actions. But she would hear no reason, and he wished not to be another cause for pain.

  
Eventually her crying lead her to a fitful sleep, and Dorian observed her as she slept, tucked into his thick quilts. He wasn’t sure he would ever get used to her untattooed face, or seeing her in such despair. And he wasn’t positive he would be able to keep his displeasure unknown from Solas. But if it would grant Telana any measure of peace he would try his best.

**Author's Note:**

> Let it be known that Telana and I do not have the same opinion of Solas, I despise that eggman and his grim legacy. But hell if I'm not a sucker for this sort of tragic love shit.
> 
> Also yes she is named after Inquisitor Ameridans wife, because it makes everything that much more sad.


End file.
